


Nightmares

by MissCricket



Series: 30 Dragon Age Fics [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCricket/pseuds/MissCricket





	Nightmares

Carver had nightmares.

That in itself wasn’t unusual, Nathaniel knew that. Grey Wardens were prone to having them, a curse that came with the taint. All of them dreamed of Darkspawn, of the blighted Deepest, Darkest roads. All of them heard it through their blood, and awoke in cold sweats, staring up at their ceilings.

He knew the Commander woke up some nights crying, or screaming, hearing echoes of the Archdemon she had defeated through her dreams. Her Joining, when the Blight was just beginning, made her more attuned to the monsters than most of the others, at least in her dreams. 

So nightmares weren’t uncommon for Grey Wardens, and the boy was still so young…and still so new to the taint in his blood. But although Carver had the usual Grey Warden nightmares, the visions of the Warden’s destined enemies, they were not his only nightmares.

Ostagar came up quite often, the boy shifting restlessly in his bed, hands clenching against the sheets as he fought in his dreams. His eyes roved under his eyelids, seeing things that Nathaniel could only imagine, could only know through the hoarse explanations the boy sometimes gave him.

He’d seen terrible things, men being slaughtered in droves, blood everywhere, taint everywhere. He’d seen a massacre, men screaming and dying and being torn apart. He’d been forced to run, to flee the battle when it was all but lost, staggering through the woods, the Wilds, being hunted by the ravening horde behind him.

He had only been eighteen years old.

But even these dreams, horrifying as they were, as drained as they made him, even these were not the worst of it.

Bethany.

The first time he’d heard Carver whisper the name, curled up next to a campfire on a week long patrol, he’d felt the bitter, cold stab of jealousy. He’d had no claim on the boy then, no excuse for feeling as he did, only the feelings he wanted the young man to reciprocate. Who was this Bethany that he whispered for? Had she been a lover? Someone he had longed for as he longed for Carver?

He’d asked about it the next day, and had been unprepared for Carver snapping at him and storming off through the trees.

He knew why now.

It was not so long ago that he remembered the feeling of losing his sister. The feeling of burning, terrible grief that the thought his baby sister had been murdered, had been snuffed from the world before she could truly live. Even though he’d found out Delilah lived…he could never forget the grief.

How much worse to see your sister, your twin, killed before your very eyes.

Carver had explained it to him, in quiet tones, methodically telling the story as though it had happened long ago, to someone else, someone he hadn’t known. And the story was short, to the point.

He was not a man to pour out his emotions.

But Nathaniel had seen behind the careful words, he could almost see Carver, young, impetuous, diving out of reach of the ogre, not realising that his sister had dived the other way. He could see a young woman, maybe with Carver’s dark hair, beautiful, Carver had said wistfully, standing between Carver’s mother and the beast. He saw the magic, the monster grabbing her, and he could imagine her being dashed against the stone like a rag doll.

He had seen Ogres kill soldiers before.

That Carver had adored his sister was something that didn’t need to be said. That Carver missed her constantly, that sometimes Nathaniel felt tears on his lover’s cheeks when he slept, didn’t need to be shared.

They had come into the world together, had grown up almost inseparable, sharing the same bed, breathing in the same breaths as they slept. They had played together, and stayed together, even when Bethany had found out about her magic. She had been frightened, and Carver had promised to protect her.

His promise had been the reason he saved up coin from chores and bought a greatsword. His promise had been why he had copied and eventually was taught by, the men at arms in the village. 

He had taken the blame when she made mistakes, he had fought the boys who teased her, and he had always made sure the Templars never even suspected she was a Mage.

He hadn’t been perfect of course, he was still Carver, prone to putting his foot in his mouth, getting all resentful if he was left out, as he was out of mage lessons, and he had teased her as all brothers did their sisters.

He had even made up a funny gig to cheer her up from every possible sadness or injury. And it never failed to make her smile.

Until he left for Ostagar they’d never spent more than an hour or two away from one another. 

And when he’d gotten back, they’d only had an hour or two together once more, fighting every step of the way, until she had been taken from him forever.

The failure to protect her was something he could never let go.

Even thinking about it made Nathaniel’s throat close up and he wished bitterly that there was something he could do. But there is no way to bring back the lost, and in time, the only physical remnant of Carver’s grief were the dreams.

All Nathaniel could do was wait, suffering with him until those blue eyes opened and unerringly looked for him.

And he would be there, with soft words, gentle caresses of his hair, and tender kisses. Slowly, the dreams came with less frequency, time passed, wounds healed. 

Until one morning, after a night of uninterrupted sleep, Nathaniel woke up to find Carver straddling his lap; blue eyes alight with that mischievous glint of his.

“I had a dream last night.” The boy informed him, rocking his hips slightly, “You’ll like this one.

And Nathaniel was sure he would.


End file.
